Crazy For You
by SBird
Summary: A story of the crazy things people will think and say and do, all in the name of love. KaixHil.


Author's Note:_ Well, this is my third KaixHil fiction and I still love them as much as I ever did. Although I'm not sure this is a very good way to express my love. It's a rather random story, actually. I was listening to a song titled "Crazy for You" and the idea struck me that I should write a story. Mainly, this fiction concerns Hilary loving Kai and all the crazy things she does to try and win his love in return. Therefore, the title has a double meaning. It will be written half in first person, half in third person. It (hopefully) will not solely concern Hilary and Kai; I plan to make some revelations about other characters as well._

_Anyways, this was inspired by "Hiccups" by twincharm. I would suggest you read "Hiccups" if you already haven't. It is a very well-written one-shot._

* * *

Stage 1: The Kiss

* * *

_Hilary's P.O.V_

I presume I'll never know what made me do it. Maybe it was the way the crimson of his eyes flashed with apathy and disapproval. Or perhaps it was because I was weary of watching the white intensity of the stars with that terrible loneliness clutching at the depths of my heart. Possibly, it was because I had ruined my garden by picking flowers and pulling off petals, letting fate's hand grasp mine and easing the distress of my mind. Yet I suppose, when all of these thoughts boil into one and in the absence of denial or shame, the reason was based solely on the fact that I was crazy...crazy for him.

I had always been told that one should fight for what they love. For with love, any force could be conquered and power faced evenly. I don't believe it has ever occurred to these people that the object of their affections could feel nothing in return for them. And what if they did not? What is one to do then? For I refused to be the unlucky, pitiful creature on the receiving end of unrequited love. I am quite confident in myself, but this would be a blow to my pride from which I would not recover. In addition to the consequences, I would greatly fear his reaction. I dreaded that the indifference in his gaze would become hate or, heaven forbid, scorn, as if my act of self-sacrifice was laughable. My courage would not hold against such a strong battering of emotions. That is the difficulty of love. At least it was so for my love, because I did not wish to lose him.

I believe some spirit must have possessed me. Some spectre of trickery, bent on destroying all I had suffered to save. Indeed, when I had decided to sketch purple hearts across the rim of Tyson's hat I must have been very absent minded, my thoughts infatuated with my hidden, passionate love, for I did not recall exactly how the hearts had gotten there at first. And this I told Tyson when he shoved the hat under my nose and shook it with exaggerated gestures and piercing inquiries. But for some reason he did not believe me and eventually, when I had remembered and admitted to my crime, he would not forgive me either. This I must confess made me quite angry. It seemed he did not understand my venerable and distressing state at all, although to be fair, he did not know anything about it. But in my moment of rage, I forgot myself and yelled at him anyways.

Of course this was followed with a bitter and livid argument in which there were many insults to my disposition that offended me greatly. I'm not a sensitive girl and these abuses of my character only served to heighten my rage instead of causing tears. Soon Ray, Max and Kenny announced their presence with calming words and reassurances. At the time I was briefly annoyed with their presence and continued habit of attempting to halt my arguments with Tyson. I suppose our loud voices had woken them up, but for Tyson and I, quarrels were like exercise: It wasn't necessarily pleasant, but in the long run, it was good for our health. Without it we would certainly explode from lack of expressed emotions and outlets in which to spend our energy.

But this day was peculiarly different. It was not just the three boys gathered around us, but across the yard Kai stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Of course, this is completely from my own observation because Kai was in fact usually present in the face of Tyson and my own bickering. Not that his presence did anything to aid me. In fact, it only caused me to be anxious and jumpy and if anything more furious. To tope it off, he confused my thoughts and the words that came out of my mouth as a result were far below even the most basic levels of intelligence. It was not even strange I suppose that he spoke out in agreement with the boys, or perhaps simply in annoyance, calling both of us immature. He did not even take any special notice of me. That made me angry. That made me really, really angry. He did it all the time of course. Why should he take any special notice of me? But suddenly I felt as if he should. Here I was, after spending days of listlessly staring at nothing and arguing with myself, being assaulted by one of his _own_ team members and ruining _my_ garden, all for him! Plus, he had somehow linked me to the idiotic acts of Tyson by calling _both_ of us "children". Although most of this could be dismissed as my own foolish thoughts and deductions, I was too angry to care. So I stalked over to him, took his head with both of my hands and kissed his stubborn, unyielding mouth.

_That_ stopped that argument, all right. It cooled me down pretty quick too. Although I believe Kai was too astonished to respond, it didn't stop me from exploring. I gripped his hair tighter when he did not shift to remove my lips from his and wound my fingers in the silky touch of his hair. But it was his lips I was concentrated on and my tongue moved against his bottom lip with a strange calm. I had greatly wondered what he tasted like and let me tell you, he tasted _good_.

I think it was about this time that the full blow of what I had just did hit me and I opened my eyes wide. He must have felt the halt in my exploration for his eyes furrowed and his brows rose up. They rose _way_ up. That's when I felt the fear creeping back. It sent a cold tingle through my bones. All that his elevated brows depicted was a simple surprise. No returned love or affection or even shock was written on his features. I drew back then and there was a terrible swirling of emotions through my heart and mind and…everywhere. I let out a little half sob; half scream and whirled around foolishly to meet the utterly astonished eyes of the remaining Bladebreakers. Severely humiliated and confused I irrationally reasoned I could not leave without doing something that seemed purposeful and idiotically snatched the purple heart covered hat from Tyson's slack grip, turned on my heel and fled…straight into Kai. Smooth, I know. He caught me though, before I hit the ground and I think out of all the things that had happened that day, his hands on my waist frightened me most of all. So I backed away, like a terrified, abused animal and ran again. And this time, I didn't hit anything.

* * *

So now I had a real problem. I will not deny the fact that I spent a great part of that day weeping bitter and sorrowful tears. Although I am strong I will not pretend that I am invincible to hurt. I knew tears would certainly not aid me or anybody else but I sobbed my injuries anyway. I partly ran, partly walked after I grew weary, to a miniature bridge crossing over the swirling waters of a tiny stream. I did not cry then but sat in silence as the sun shone merrily above me. I let my heart slow and my blood cool in the dappled shade of the poplars. With my finger I drew meaningless patterns and symbols in the sand until finally I sat, absolutely composed. 

At this point I suppose most normal people would be convinced I was crazy. I did just kiss the boy, didn't I? Why didn't I just stay there and confess or _at least_ say something that seemed as if I was just a _little bit_ in control of the situation? I thought there must be a simple answer to that question…but I did not know what it was. My mind was utterly blank of answers or plans. It is strange when a girl who achieves such high grades at school has absolutely no sense when it came to emergencies. But I was determined to be cheerful. I tucked my hair into Tyson's heart-covered cap and brushed off my jeans. Then I set off toward the center of the park and tried not to think about what Kai would do or say the next time I saw him. This I confess was very difficult not to do.

I would suspect that after three hours of walking in circles without any kind of refreshment after a traumatic experience, some of the strongest people in the world would be a little bit tired. I, on the other hand, was exhausted -not to mention hungry- and very, very unhappy. It was a relief when I heard a voice calling me. I turned my head wearily and trudged over to where a girl sat on a bench across the path. She smiled, "I thought you might be lost. You've walked by me five times"

I closed my eyes briefly in embarrassment and then began awkwardly "Um…no…kind of…no, actually. I'm just…walking."

I took the twitch of her mouth to mean that she had chosen to ignore the fact that I had simply stated the obvious. "Why don't you sit down? You look rather tired." She shifted the curled paint tubes on the bench beside her and beckoned. I sat down and removed Tyson's cap. Silence ensued.

She bent calmly over her painting, which I could not see because it was tilted away from me, and laid even strokes of paint near the corner of the paper. After a while she spoke, "Some people believe that walking in circles repetitively will aid in clearing one's mind, but I don't agree."

My eyebrows quirked at this and I trained my gaze on her careful strokes. "Really? And what would you suggest then, to clear one's mind?"

She smiled again and her eyes met mine. "Silence. This allows one to sort out their feelings by _not_ talking about them. Of course," she added, as if an afterthought, "it also encourages an individual to muse on the subject that is distressing them more often than not…Oh well…" She bent over her painting once more, smiling slightly.

I sighed, "All right then, I can take a hint. I have a problem…I mean, not like, a _problem_ or anything, but a problem…like an issue, dilemma, crisis." She glanced up from her work and leaned back.

"Feel free to share."

_End of Hilary's P.O.V_

* * *

It is a long and terrible moment when one has to relay the pains of the heart. It is especially so when the story, filled with shame and sorrow, is told to a complete stranger. Hilary however, barely felt the mortification of the situation. The wound of her humiliation was fresh and she could not help but become enchanted in her tale, her voice crying out with passion and accusations. The story of her long weeks of suffering and the sudden embarrassing kiss was primarily summed up in large amount with primitive hand gestures and much strange waving (chiefly used to illustrate Tyson's character). When the story was complete and she sat with her eyes locked on the other girls in a pleading silence, one could wonder how any sense at all could be retained from such a rant. The other girl did not seem to notice (or if she did she didn't show any sign) the lack of sense in Hilary's speech and made the appropriate crooning sounds of sympathy while patting Hilary's arm. 

This was followed by a somewhat less awkward silence in which the girl took the opportunity to continue painting and Hilary mused over the last fifteen minutes, perhaps regretting some of the unfair judgements she had made in the process of her story-telling. Shortly after, when the girl showed no sign of attempting to begin any sort of communication, Hilary turned to her and inquired, "How long have you been here? You must have been painting quite a long time. To see me walk by five times, I mean."

She nodded "Yes, since eleven o'clock. I'm an artist. I paint landscapes, see?" She turned the paint stand in front of her and I leaned in to see more clearly.

"Wow…" It was an exact replica of the stone fountain dominating the center of the clearing. Ivy hung with volume along the cracked rim as the water bloomed into a bouquet from the mouth of the miniature lion and cascaded down into sheets of rainbows. Along the ground tiny blossoms of dragon snaps yielded their petite breasts to the sun or drooped in feminine maturity. Greens of every shade bloomed in the dappled sunlight and shadow of the red cobblestone path. It was a masterpiece of colour and precision. Hilary grinned, "It's beautiful!"

The girl smiled again, "Thank-you. It still needs much more work. You see how I've missed the white that sparkles where the sun meets the water? I need to be here at eleven o'clock every day so I can capture the picture in my mind." She laughed "I'm rather nervous about adding the white to make the water shimmer though. It's a new technique. If I don't do it right, then the painting will be ruined."

Hilary's brows furrowed at this. "Then why not just leave it? It already is beautiful. You don't need to make it better."

Her brush added a touch of white to the water. "Yes, it _already_ is beautiful. The composition is correct and the colours are complimentary, the shadowing has been added. But it's not complete. It never will be if I am not brave enough to add the sparkle. Sometimes, you need to have enough courage to finish what you have begun and see it through to the end. Then, what you have set in motion will be truly beautiful, because it will be complete."

Hilary was staring at her and narrowed her eyes, carefully assessing. The girl laughed at her expression and then smiled calmly and held up the painting. "Do you see?" she spoke softly with barely a whisper of sound. "The water is shimmering now. It's alive. It is complete."

Why is it that perfect strangers can have the answer to your problems? Why is it that when no one is around to listen, you can find comfort in a person whom you have never met before? As Hilary stared at the blue that seemed to bubble and froth on the paper before her, she wondered that very question. It was frustrating and embarrassing and her stomach had started twisting with fear again. She buried her head in the arms across her lap and groaned. Even though it was heartfelt, the girl chuckled and Hilary found she was slightly annoyed but still too embarrassed to say anything.

Shortly after Hilary felt a pause in the girl's careful strokes and then she spoke. "Hey…does this boy have kind of…slate grey hair?"

Hilary nodded miserably into her crossed arms.

"And…does he have crimson eyes?"

Hilary looked up at her then, with her brows raised in surprise, "Yeah…But how would-"

"And does he usually have a ferocious scowl on his face and such a severe mouth?" She kept her tone light and her brows rose slightly as she bent her body to see past Hilary's bowed form. Hilary followed her gaze, somewhat petrified and regretting her decision to stay in one place for such a long time and met a terrifying sight: Kai's shoulder blades. But it was not the flexing muscles that she could see through his skin-tight shirt where he had just turned away from her a couple of meters away that frightened her (for that had the exact opposite effect); it was his presence as a whole. A very strange, boiling mix of feelings ripped through her body, all in the space of a second. She started, cringed and then unlocked her legs to bolt.

The girl grabbed her arm "Now hold on and don't panic. You have to decide right now. What are you going to do about him?" Hilary, with her eyes still locked on Kai's back, knew the girl wasn't talking about the moment at present. She could run. He would never catch her. She could laugh and tell him and the others it had just been a joke. If she didn't pay any special attention to him from now on, he would forget it. They would all forget. She could just tell herself to forget this feeling, this painting that she had begun and begin another. This _thing_, this strange sensation growing inside her breast was fine the way it was. It didn't need to mature any more. It was already beautiful where it was, safe and locked somewhere inside her.

But_ it_, whatever it was, wasn't complete. It wasn't complete at all.

Hilary swallowed and stood. The girl's hand slid off her arm and she sat in silence, remaining behind on the bench. Perhaps Hilary would wonder later why her legs moved automatically in one direction and why her heart pounding loudly in her ears felt so natural. All she could think was that she knew the reason why she couldn't run, why she _wouldn't_ run. Setting her mouth in a grim line she raised her head and began walking toward the back of the crimson-eyed captain of the Bladebreakers. Maybe it would not be so bad facing him… Oh, how she wished she could run away!

_It's too late_

She sighed.

_I'm crazy for you_.

* * *

Author's Note:_ As I have already said, this fanfic is completely random (meaning that I was not trying to accomplish anything specific with the completion of the first chapter). I hope you enjoyed it, nevertheless. I am also very sorry for any grammar and /or spelling errors! _


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